Wild Child

While she was composing her reply, her cell phone chirped. She retrieved it from her tote bag and checked the number. Frowning, she hit the answer button. “Hello, Uncle Spence.”

“Sara, why haven’t you answered my messages?” Spence’s Southern gentleman’s drawl was laced with tension. “I’m leaving for the golf course to play eighteen holes with Benton Granger. He’s going to want to know about that deal you’ve been working on for him.”

“Tell him everything’s on schedule for his closing next Thursday.” She logged off her e-mail.

“Are you sure? We haven’t heard back from the title company yet, have we? And what about the survey?”

“The survey came in Friday. It’s in the file. And the title company is supposed to call tomorrow.”

“You should call them today.” In the background she heard the hushed, reverent commentary of the Golf Channel announcers on TV. “If there’s anything I’ve learned in my years in this business, it’s that you have to stay on people to get them to complete tasks in a timely manner.”

She rolled her eyes. Spence Montgomery’s business philosophy in a nutshell: management by nagging. “Everything will be fine,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

“It’s my job to worry. And yours, too. It takes worry—and a great deal of hard work—to stay on top in this business. I’d have thought you’d have learned that from me, if nothing else.”

She had learned it all right. Since she was seventeen and her uncle had given her a job as a clerk at his business, Anderson Title, he had taught her the importance of hard work. And she’d been a good pupil; once she’d graduated college, he’d promoted her and she’d taken on more and more responsibility every year. The business had blossomed into a multimillion-dollar concern, processing over a hundred mortgage loans a month.

Sara loved the business. And she loved Uncle Spence. She owed all her current success to him. But he really did worry too much. “When you see Mr. Granger, tell him everything is going great.”

“It would be better if you were here to make sure of that.”

“I’ll be back in the office next week. I’ll take care of his account then.”

“I think you should call the title company today. Just to make sure they haven’t run into any snags.”

“Uncle Spence, I’m on vacation.”

“One brief call won’t make that much of a difference. And it would set Granger’s mind at ease—and mine as well.”

She checked her watch. It was a little after one o’clock. She could phone Marsha, then hit the beach. “Okay. I’ll call. And I’ll e-mail you to let you know everything’s okay. But then I’m turning my phone off.”

“Don’t do that! What if I need you?”

There had been a time when she’d been flattered by Spence saying he needed her. But the warm fuzzies had worn off some time ago. “You’ve been in this business a lot longer than I have. I’m sure you can handle anything that comes up.”

“You’re responsible for your own clients, Sara. Remember, at Anderson Title we pride ourselves on our customer service.” The implication that he would be disappointed if she provided anything less than the best hung heavy in the air.

She sighed. She couldn’t say no to Uncle Spence. “All right. But please promise not to call me unless it’s an emergency.”

“That’s my girl.” The cheerfulness was back in his voice. “I promise. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Goodbye. And don’t worry.” She might as well tell the waves to stop moving.

She checked her watch again. Candy and Ellie ought to have reached Matt’s beach house by now. She punched in Candy’s number. The line rang and rang, but there was no response. Odd. Maybe Candy was too involved in a conversation with Matt to answer.

Sara shrugged and set aside the phone, then clicked on the address book on her computer to retrieve Marsha’s number. While she waited for the program to open, she stared out at the ocean.

A figure appeared on the horizon—the dark outline of a surfer against an expanse of blue sky and foaming white water. As she watched, he moved closer. She could tell it was a man now, broad-shoul-dered, wearing Hawaiian print board shorts.

She leaned forward, holding her breath as he rode the crest of a perfect curl. Knees slightly bent, arms held a little apart from his body, he was precisely balanced on the board, a picture of grace and strength.

Her heart twisted with longing as she watched the man. Oh, to be able to tame the ocean that way. To have such command over the waves and your own body. When she was a girl, she’d spent a lot of time on the beach, mooning after various surfing gods. She’d never gotten farther than being “allowed” to hold surfboards while her crushes headed off with some other bikini-clad babe.

Of course she’d also been skipping school, experimenting with drugs and hanging out with the wrong crowd. She was one short step away from juvenile delinquency when her mother’s brother, Spence, had reined her in.

But she hadn’t been all bad in those days. She smiled, remembering. Sure, she’d been a little reckless. A little wild. But she’d also been fun and spontaneous. Words that didn’t play a big part in her life these days.

Wasn’t that part of the reason she’d come on this vacation—to get in touch with that inner wild child again? To rediscover the fun of being a little reckless?

She stood and leaned over the railing to watch the surfer more closely. He was tall and muscular, bronzed from hours in the sun. Exactly the kind of guy she’d panted after years ago.

Okay, so she could admit to herself that he was the kind of guy who still made her feel a little out of breath. Just because she’d been too busy working these past few years to have time for a relationship with the opposite sex didn’t mean she was dead.

That was the whole point of this vacation, wasn’t it? She was here to prove to Ellie and Candy—and most importantly, to herself—that she still had what it took to have fun and really live.

She checked the surfer again. Great abs. Great legs. Great tan. Her lips curved in a smile. Exactly the kind of man she could go for.

So why not go for him? The idea sent a thrill of anticipation through her and she stood up straighter. What better way to wake up her dormant libido and rev up her inner party girl than a fling with a hot surfer?

The surfer rode the wave until it died in the shallows, then came ashore, pulling the board behind him by its leash. She couldn’t tear her gaze away as he emerged from the water like some mythical sea god. Or maybe the star in one of her more vivid sexual fantasies…

“Hello!”

With a start, she realized he’d spotted her. He moved closer, waving.

She smiled and waved back, her heart galloping in her chest.

“Come on down! The waves are great!” he called.

She hesitated. Here was the opening she’d been looking for. “I’ll be right there!” she called. She started toward the stairs leading down from the deck to the beach, hesitated, then did an about-face and grabbed the cell phone. Candy would give her a hard time if she saw, but what could Sara say? She wasn’t ready to go cold turkey yet. Besides, it wasn’t as if she expected another call or anything. She just felt kind of…naked…without it.

DREW LEANED his board against the deck pilings and waited for the young woman to join him. She was wearing a bright-orange bikini that showed off her very sexy curves. He was glad she’d agreed to join him. When he’d spotted her she’d been watching him with a wistful look on her face. As if she really didn’t want to be on that deck by herself.

Since he’d started off the day feeling lonely himself, he figured maybe the two of them could help each other out. And it didn’t hurt that she looked hot in that bikini. “Hi, I’m Drew Jamison.” He stood at the top of the steps and held out his hand. “Welcome to Malibu.”

“Hello. I’m Sara.” She hesitated, then stepped forward and took his hand. She had a firm, businesslike grip, but her hand was cold. He cupped it in his and rubbed back and forth. “You ought to get out into the sun and warm up.”

She pulled away and turned to look out over the ocean, her cheeks a becoming pink. Obviously, she wasn’t used to strangers rubbing her hand. Way to go, Drew, he thought. Scare her off, first thing.

He struck a casual pose next to his board, pretending to look out at the waves while watching her out of the corner of his eye. He kept a good three feet of space between them. He didn’t want her to think he was the type to come on too strong.

“How long have you been surfing?”

Her voice was soft, with a slight Southern drawl that sent heat through him that had nothing to do with the Malibu sun. “I’ve been doing it since I was a kid,” he said. “Almost twenty-five years.”

“You’re very good.” She glanced at him, a shy smile transforming her face.

There went another heat wave. If she was flirting with him she was keeping it low key, but his body was responding as if she’d turned on the charm one hundred percent. Guess he was lonelier than he’d thought. He grinned. “Thanks. I run the surf shop down the way, the Surf Shack. My grandpa owns the place, so I’ve been hanging out there for years. I give lessons too, if you’re interested in learning how to surf while you’re here.”